Infected
by modernwolfskin
Summary: "The world we knew is gone. An epidemic of apocalyptic proportions has swept the globe causing the dead to rise and feed on the living. In a matter of months society has crumbled. In a world ruled by the dead, we are forced to finally start living." This story follows the events of Penelope Trent, a survivor of the zombie apocalypse who is in search of other survivors in Arizona.
1. Chapter 1

Before the outbreak, I was living on my own with my cat and interning at a local radio station. My responsibilities included (and were extremely limited to) pulling out records to be used, answering phones, checking the station's emails, and fetching coffee or snacks for the staff. Glamorous and highly productive, right? The thing is, it was never enough for me and it wasn't the job I dreamed it would be when I got the call that I was accepted as their new intern. I wanted to be one of the hosts, picking out music for the day, talking about the latest in the news, conducting interviews with celebrities, all while having lively discussions with my co-host and providing general entertainment to the world. Waking up at two o'clock and getting to the station by four every single morning, just to get some pompous jerk his coffee, was not what I had signed on for. I was supposed to be in training to work my way up to the host of my own show, for Christ's sake. None of the listeners knew I existed, and I wanted that to change so desperately that I wished for anything, _anything,_ to put me into one of those big swivel arm chairs the hosts lounged in day after day.

Well, one day, I finally got my wish. Though it is kinda ironic how it took a zombie apocalypse to make it happen.

I had always been one of those girls that talked among my friends about the possibility of a zombie apocalypse, especially with all the new TV shows and movies that were all the rage back when the world wasn't in complete disarray. I loved zombies. I loved the idea of them, loved participating in any sort of event featuring the walking dead, and I especially loved dressing up as one every Halloween. I read all the books and watched all the movies or shows I could find on zombies, and I had even written a paper in a sociology class based around zombies in the modern world. I think my fascination bordered on obsession, which of course freaked my closest family out and lead me to move from our cozy home in San Francisco to a tiny apartment in Mesa, Arizona. Though I miss the city from time to time, I've grown fond of the remote landscape - not to mention how much more helpful that scenery would be in the case of an outbreak as opposed to a crowded city.

Regardless of how well-versed I was in the world of the walking dead, I wasn't prepared for the outbreak to happen as suddenly as it did. Cases were popping up of people going crazy and eating each other, the first broadcasted from Florida, and it was written off as drug use. People were supposedly using homemade 'bath salts', something like meth, and it was causing their brains to deteriorate, stripping them of their humanity and developing a craving for human flesh like cannibals. I was skeptical of this, of course, but all my friends told me that my obsession had escalated, that this was just the product of idiotic people letting their addictions get the best of them, and so I let it go. I should have been more prepared, and to this day I beat myself up over it, but I don't think I could have done anything different than what the Center for Disease Control and our lovely government had attempted to do.

It didn't take long for the problems to escalate, and any fool could see that more and more 'bath salt' users were appearing all over the world. In under a year, society had completely collapsed. Shelves were emptied from any and all stores, people were being held at gun point in the streets for food or water, and it became impossible to trust the living. Those that had been killed were rising up from the streets more frequently, the disease spreading out of control, and survivors moved on so that it became nearly impossible to run into another human being without traveling for days. I stayed in Mesa, locking myself away in my apartment until the whole complex became overrun, and soon I was forced to take what I could and find shelter elsewhere. I headed to the radio station, which had of course been abandoned, but it was secure enough to keep the dead out. Over the next two years after the first sign of the outbreak, I had fought my fair share of zombies and learned to cope without the company of others. I found ways to trap them, tricks to keeping myself hidden from their sight and scent when hunting for supplies, and more than a hundred every day objects that could be used in a pinch to defend myself. I knew how to fire a gun and was adept at hitting a far off target, but I tried to avoid firearms as much as possible, as the sound usually drew more zombies to my location than I could handle.

I had run into a few survivors during a couple outings, but nearly every one tried to screw me over in one way or another. One guy had actually suggested we travel together and find safety in numbers before attempting to us me as zombie bait so he could save his own ass. He was bitten in the end. I learned fast not to trust anyone, something that was unusual for me considering how trusting and naive I had been before the outbreak, but I guess the ever-present threat of death changed people in that way. Regardless of how little I trusted people, I still missed human companionship and had put out radio signals for any survivors that happened to be listening in. Two years of living alone, surrounded by nothing but death, was enough to drive the sanest person to put a bullet in their own brain. This is where I was today.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's been two and a half years now since the first signs of the outbreak. The world is in complete disorder, it's become impossible to trust anyone who still has a pulse. I've been broadcasting since I first took shelter here at the station, hoping that anyone who has survived this madness is still listening and as always, I'm willing to offer a safe haven for those that need it. I've got plenty of energy here, as I've been conserving whatever the generators have left in them, so there's running water and light and air conditioning. There's food and water here, considerably less than there was when this place was thriving and full of the living, but it's enough to get by. I've been rationing myself, using the absolute minimum needed for my body to survive and stay reasonably healthy. I don't like making runs too often; there's too many of the dead out there nowadays and sometimes I don't think I'll make it back alive. It's a wonder I've come this far, really." I cleared my throat, pausing to drum my fingers along the desk and leaning back in the chair, the headphones snug against my ears. I pushed myself forward once more, leaning into the mic and taking a breath. "If there's anyone out there, anyone listening at all, the station is located in Mesa, Arizona - KQAD Radio. If you're just now tuning in, I'll be putting out another broadcast an hour from now, and every hour afterwards."

I reached above me, flipping a large red switch on the wall to cut the broadcast before placing the headphones on their wall hook. I never knew if anyone was listening in, since the last time anyone actually showed up was over a year ago and for all I knew, I was the only one left in the state, if not the country. I was still hesitant about the broadcasts, regardless of how much I needed the extra help around the station and when getting more supplies, because I didn't know what the other survivors would do. They might just kill me and take over the station as their own, but it seemed like a risk I needed to take in times like this. I couldn't make it on my own much longer, strong as I liked to think of myself as against the Walkers; I needed help from others. I sat in that chair a few moments longer, looking around me and wondering what it would be like for the station halls to be filled with other people, living people that helped each other without waiting for the opportunity to strike someone in the back. A sigh left my lips as I pushed myself up from the chair stiffly, stretching my back before walking out of the broadcasting room and heading to the small kitchen to fix some coffee. The machine was at least four years old and I was due for a new one (granted that I could find one in town if the local stores weren't crawling with Walkers), but it made a decent cup of coffee for the world I lived in today. As the black liquid slowly dripped into the pot, filling the room with a slightly stale aroma of caffeine, I began to realize it was already after four and I hadn't eaten anything. I had cut my diet down so much since the dead started rising that I hardly had an appetite anymore, but there was still a low rumbling in my stomach and a shakiness to my limbs that reminded me I still needed to eat something.

My hands went automatically to the refrigerator handle. Even though it ran, I only used it to store opened canned foods, in order to keep them from spoiling. There was a can of beans sitting on the top shelf of the nearly empty fridge, only a spoonful or two missing from it due to yesterday's meal. I pulled it off the shelf, digging in the drawer beside the sink for a plastic spoon before sitting at the table and taking a bite from the beans. I needed to restock the kitchen first thing tomorrow morning; going out tonight was out of the question, as the sun would be sinking in a few hours and I still needed to put out another broadcast at five thirty. A couple bites out of the beans and I was already satisfied, placing the can back where it belonged and washing the spoon in the sink before putting the utensil back in the drawer. The coffee machine beeped twice, letting me know it was finished brewing and leaving me to grab a cup from the cabinet eagerly. I had tossed all the station cups out, due to the fact that they all had pictures of the old radio show hosts on them and I didn't like to think of them as the zombies they were now, and restocked the cabinets with a few scattered mugs I had found at abandoned stores. I could be uncivilized, drinking straight from the pot or out of some plastic drink ware, but I needed to have a sense of normality to keep myself sane these days. Anything to remind me that humanity still had a shred of hope left.

As I sat there at the table, drinking my coffee and letting my leg twitch out of nervous habit, I listened for the sounds of the undead. I could always hear them shuffling about, moaning and attacking any living thing they could find, particularly when it got darker. It was unsettling and didn't make for a peaceful night's sleep, but the noise was how I knew the Walkers stayed outside and hadn't broken into the station. I had been lucky enough in the past two years to have successfully secured the weak points in the building, thanks to the few times the dead had actually broken through. The real danger to me was being out, looking for another safe house that I didn't know front to back, one that could easily have the dead lurking in dark corners or behind closed doors. No, I wasn't planning on moving out anytime soon and if it came down to it, I would rather die in the one place I had called my second home than out in the streets of Mesa. And preferably with a bullet in my head before they could get the chance to eat me.

A quiet ringing suddenly reached my ears, making my heart pound before I realized it was only the alarm I had set, reminding me that it was time for the next broadcast. I blew a pent up breath from my lungs before pushing my chair back, the metal legs squealing against the linoleum in protest, hurriedly making my way back to the booth and hoping that maybe this time, it would actually do some good. I took my place in that leather swivel chair once more, headphones back over my ears and turning the machines back on to go live. There was a moment of silence before I could bring myself to speak into the mic; it was funny how I had been doing this every hour for the past two years but I still struggled with what to say. A small laugh left my lips at the ridiculousness of the thought. "This is Penelope Trent, back on the air for what I swear is the trillionth time. I don't know if this is a lost cause or not, because I don't even know if anyone is listening out there. If you are, then you know how desperate I must be to be making these constant broadcasts. The dead have taken over and since it's been a good amount of time since I've last had any living human contact, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm the only one left out here, or at least the last one in Arizona. I don't know," I said, pausing to gather my thoughts before beginning again.

"I can hear the Walkers outside, sometimes scratching against the walls or windows or doors, looking for a way in. I'm not sure if they know I'm in here but a few might. I don't know how intelligent they are, if they remember my face from the outings I've taken. I can't risk gathering supplies tonight since it's already getting dark and they're gathering in hordes the farther the sun goes down. I'm kinda losing my mind here, unable to wrap my head around how this could have possibly happened in such a short amount of time. It seems like just yesterday we were hearing those ridiculous bath salt stories and if I had any say in the matter, I would have spoken up back then, maybe prevented it from getting this bad. But I don't have the credentials to voice my opinion. I hadn't even touched a microphone before the Walkers showed up, so what does that tell you? I was a nobody, and even more so now, but I still can't help having a little hope that someone out there is hearing this and thinks that I'm worth a little more than that."

I stopped myself once more, running my tongue over my dry lips and leaning my arms against the desk. "I'm running out of things to say here," I said with a nervous laugh, "I guess it's because I just don't know how to talk to people anymore, even when I don't know if anyone's hearing what I've got to say. My broadcasts are getting shorter and shorter, it seems, so I guess I'll just end this one too. If you're tuning in now, I'll be running a few more broadcasts tonight, every hour as usual. If you've been listening and you need a place to stay that's secure, that has food and water and energy, I'm located in the KQAD station in downtown Mesa. You can't miss the water tower by the building. I really hope someone else is out there." I tugged the headphones off, setting them on the desk and not bothering to hang them up neatly as I flipped the switch off again. My frustration was building, as it usually did around this time, and I knew that by the time I laid down to sleep, I would be a wreck. Three more broadcasts would be made that night before I turned in and I was beginning to feel like I was only kidding myself.


End file.
